"
"Oh! oh! Francine!" cried the lady.
"What is it?"
"This is the third time you have tried to make me tell you the reasons
for this journey and where we are going."
"Have I said one single word which deserves that reproach?"
"Oh, I've noticed your manoeuvring. Simple and truthful as you are, you
have learned a little cunning from me. You are beginning to hold
questioning in horror; and right enough, too, for of all the known
ways of getting at a secret, questions are, to my mind, the silliest."
"Well," said Francine, "since nothing escapes you, you must admit,
Marie, that your conduct would excite the curiosity of a saint.
Yesterday without a penny, to-day your hands are full of gold; at
Mortagne they give you the mail-coach which was pillaged and the
driver killed, with government troops to protect you, and you are
followed by a man whom I regard as your evil genius."
"Who? Corentin?" said the young lady, accenting the words by two
inflections of her voice expressive of contempt, a sentiment which
appeared in the gesture with which she waved her hand towards the
rider. "Listen, Francine," she said. "Do you remember Patriot, the
monkey I taught to imitate Danton?"
"Yes, mademoiselle."
"Well, were you afraid of him?"
"He was chained."
"And Corentin is muzzled, my dear."
"We used to play with Patriot by the hour," said Francine,--"I know
that; but he always ended by serving us some bad trick.
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